Buffalo

The in-laws were coming. Minister Sahib, or rather, the former-Minister Sahib, and his delicate wife. They were coming for the first time to Anita's parents' since they had moved here into a place of their own a few months ago. Anita was there, too, visiting for two weeks from abroad. She had come for her annual visit, which, she decided, were meant to keep that part of her alive, connected. And of course, to see her family. Catch up.

She had resolved never to get sick during these visits. She wanted to prove (she wasn't quite sure to whom) that the Third World (she liked the sound of that--Third World) would always be kicking within her. She visualized it sometimes--her T-cells like street urchins, ready to fight, defend. To take care of themselves and their kith amidst the bustling, grimy business of living.

It was a small house, but they got by fine. Fine, she thought. Everything's fine, thank God.

The houses smaller, closer together, the neighbors more modest-looking, a lot of construction. Anita took all this in while her parents drove her home from the airport in their rickety Suzuki Khyber. You just wait and see, her mother had said. Once they pave the roads, get all those houses built, it'll be like Islamabad. Like we never moved. And those damned water buffalo don't make things any prettier, but they're portable, too. Shoo, shoo, and out they'll go. And they're not here all the time, you see. Anita had held her mother's hand and said of course. And it's your own house, Ammi-ji. That's all that counts, doesn't it.

Now, ten days later, she had found herself getting accustomed to the perpetual stench of a broken sewage pipe somewhere, the fat, cocky flies, the daily power outages, and those buffaloes. Big, black, sweaty creatures grazing lazily in the empty lot in front of the house.

She gazed down at them from the terrace, the concrete still cool under her feet from the night before. A few of them lumbered about looking for green patches while others just sat around and stared and ruminated. Sparrows and quails fluttered about over some of them, settling down every now and then to pick their breakfast from the buffalo's ears in quick, nervous movements. One buffalo--a smaller one, but not quite a calf anymore--had no patience with the pestering birds. The young thing had a bell around its neck. A loud, unashamed, clanging bell, which caught the sun and Anita had to look away.

Well, this is different, Anita was thinking. Interesting, if you think about it. We have buffalo for neighbors. And she laughed out loud.

\\*\\*\\*

Anita's mother was in a flurry over the impending arrival. She had the cleaning women scrub extra hard, went over the tea menu countless times, running each revision by Anita, had the help bathe and put on their best clothes, and more than once ran her hands ever so lightly over the new drapes.

An hour before Anita's in-laws were due to arrive, her mother decided to make a final inspection of the outside. No sooner had she stepped out that she came running back in with a hand on her heart. Those damned, ugly creatures are still out there, she whispered hoarsely to Anita.

So? was all Anita could manage right then. But, enough already, she was thinking, they'd better leave now. For Ammi-ji's sake, if nothing else. The poor woman's going to have a heart attack.

Anita's father emerged from their bedroom, all spruced. You've got to do something, Anita's mother said to him. The buffalo, they're still out there.

What? he said. And I told that stupid kid to have them out of here by six.

He marched out of the house. A few minutes later he strode back in, puffed with accomplishment. I gave him a piece of my mind, he said. It's bad enough they come here at all and stink up the place, he said.

Anita felt herself sigh with relief. She was in no mood to deal with her mother-in-law's snide asides regarding the socio-economic implications of a neighborhood that allowed buffalo to roam freely. Not that it mattered to her in principle. No, not really.

Anita sat back on a chair in the living room and looked through a magazine. Her parents relaxed as best they could in front of the TV. The pungent sewage smell was all but gone--covered up by the fine mist of foreign-manufactured English Lavender air freshener which Anita's father had been spritzing away all day. All quiet now except the small, tinny sounds of Asian MTV coming from the television.

And then, through the thick, concrete walls came a jangle of angry sound. Anita recognized it immediately. It was the muted high pitch of her father-in-law's Mercedes horn battling with the familiar clanging of that morning. Anita's mother's face was all bafflement. Her father, the quicker one, ran out to help resolve the dispute. Anita just slumped down in her chair and threw her head back. Then, as human sounds entered the chorus, she got herself up and went out. There he was, the decorated buck, staring the Mercedes in the face, refusing to budge. The chauffeur had stepped out of the car, and was torn between Anita's father's commands and his own instincts. He finally picked up a good-sized stone from the ground and flung it hard at the animal.

The young buffalo charged at the chauffeur, missed him, and rammed his head clean into the side of the car. The clang of his bell was loudest then.

As Anita stood and watched this, she felt her heart swallow itself. The buffalo trotted off, making his music, to the empty lot and pulled on some grass. Anita's mother had come out by then. She looked from Anita's father (who had run up to the Mercedes to assess the damage) to the buffalo, munching on his snack and looking their way. Then at the in-laws' scandalized faces. She looked about one more time and then hurried back indoors.

It was only appropriate for Anita to go to her mother-in-law's side and offer comfort. With difficult steps, Anita walked towards her guests, attempting a smile. Her father was fussing over the rather large dent on Minister Sahib's side. The two women's eyes met and Anita found it hard to hold on to her smile.

Dreadful, the mother-in-law shrieked. This is a dreadful, dreadful place. And the tears broke loose.

Anita walked past the car and kept going. She walked around mounds of sand and gravel, muddy puddles, and scattered bricks, towards the empty lot with the patchy grass and the lone buffalo.